The Grey Cloak - Page 122/256

"Monsieur du Cévennes," said D'Hérouville, just before supper that

first night of their arrival on Canadian soil, "I see that you are not

quite strong enough to keep the engagement. This day two weeks: will

that be agreeable?"

"It will; though I should be better pleased to fix the scene for

to-morrow morning."

D'Hérouville raised a deprecating hand. "I should not like to have it

said that I took advantage of a man's weakness. Of course, if you wish

absolutely to force it . . ."

The Chevalier looked thoughtfully at his pale hands. "I shall take

advantage of your courtesy, Monsieur le Comte."

"How polite men are when about to cut each other's throats!" The

Vicomte d'Halluys adjusted his baldric and entered the great

dining-hall of the Château Saint Louis.

He and D'Hérouville sat side by side.

"Vicomte, you have never told me why the Chevalier is here. Why should

he leave France, he, who possessed a fortune, who had Mazarin's favor,

and who had all the ladies at his feet?"

"Ask him when you meet him," answered the vicomte, testing the

governor's burgundy.

"And will you pay me those ten thousand livres which you wagered

against my claims for madame's hand?"

The vicomte took a sip of the wine. There was no verbal answer, but

his eyes spoke.

"Quebec promises to afford a variety," commented d'Hérouville, glancing

to where the Chevalier sat.

"It is quite probable," affably returned the vicomte. "This is good

wine for a wilderness like this. To be sure, it comes from France; I

had forgotten."

The first fortnight passed with the excitement attendant to taking up

quarters in a strange land. The Chevalier, Victor and the vicomte were

given rooms in the citadel; D'Hérouville accepted the courtesy of the

governor and became a resident of the château; father Chaumonot, Major

du Puys, and his selected recruits, had already made off for Onondaga.

A word from Father Chaumonot into the governor's ear promoted the

Chevalier to a lieutenancy in lieu of Nicot's absence in Onondaga.

Everything began very well.

Seldom a day went by without a skirmish with the Iroquois, who had

grown impudent and fearless again. The Iroquois were determined to

destroy their ancient enemies, the Hurons, primarily because they hated

them, and secondarily because they were allies of the French. France

did what she could in reason to stop these depredations, but the task

needed an iron gauntlet, and De Lauson was a civilian. At this period

the Mohawks were the fiercest, the Onondagas having agreed to a

temporary treaty. Marauders were brought in and punished, but usually

the punishment was trivial compared to the offense. The governor

wished to rule by kindness; but his lieutenants knew the Indian

thoroughly. He must not be treated with kindness where justice was

merited; it gave him the idea that the white man was afraid.

Therefore, his depredations should be met with a vengeance swift and

final and convincing. But nine times out of ten De Lauson and the

priests overruled the soldiers; and the depredations continued

unabated. Once, however, the Chevalier succeeded in having several

gibbets erected on the island of Orléans, and upon these gibbets he

strung half a dozen redskins who had murdered a family of peaceful

Hurons.